


Veer

by Frequently_Humming



Series: Sound Waves [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Radio, Best Friends, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frequently_Humming/pseuds/Frequently_Humming
Summary: "I don't think it's like lighting a match.""What," Poe frowned, glancing over as Bastian came to lean against the railing next to him, his eyes trained on the river."You said you knew you were in love all at once, like lighting a match," Bastian explained.  "I think you're wrong.""Wouldn't be the first time," Poe mumbled, mostly to himself as he shifted his attention to the champagne flute in his hands.  "Go on.""I'm not sure you ever know it-you feel it, gradually, like the tide coming in, and then all of a sudden you're drowning in it but you don't mind."  Bastian raised his head slightly, taking in the crescent moon and avoiding Poe's stare.  "You don't mind at all."





	1. We Didn't Start the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Back for Part Three!  
> This one is going to be a bit more intense, compared to Relationships in Motion. Still will have the light moments and humor, of course, combined with life which isn't always light and funny.
> 
> Note on the structure: this story has a bit of a different flow from the last two in the series. The first part of each chapter will be "the present" and the second part have taken prior to the first part of said chapter but after RiM. It sounds crazy, but it will make more sense as the chapters build.
> 
> Enjoy!

Iolo pushed himself to his hands and knees, coughing and hacking against the smoke and fumes.  A few tears squeezed their way out of his tightly closed eyes, and he could still feel the licks of fire around him, like phantom limbs.

 

A hand was pounding his back, a voice speaking indistinctly above him, but all Iolo could concentrate on was the rushing sound in his ears and the rapid beating of his heart.  The hacking subsided, and he gasped for air as if he’d never breathe again—which there was still a good chance of.

 

“—ambulance, where the fuck--,”

 

“—just passed out, he’s not--,”

 

Iolo forced his eyes open, blinking against the remnants of smoke drifting around him like a bad memory even as he tried to focus on the cement below his palms and the voices above his head.

 

“—oxygen!  Starting CPR--,”

 

“—Finn--,”

 

“No!  Stay with Bas—we’re okay--,”

 

“Bas,” Iolo rasped out, attention finally catching.  He inhaled shakily through his teeth and rotated his head to the right, where someone’s shadow was resting over his hand.  “Where’s--,”

 

“Don’t, Lo,” came a firm order from a voice Iolo knew but couldn’t quite place.  It sounded jumbled as it broke through his fog of consciousness.  “Don’t try to talk.  Just take some deep breaths, okay?”

 

“Bas,” Iolo repeated, choking out another cough, his mind and lungs clearing a little bit more.  He blinked a few times, clearing the blurred edges of his vision until he could make out Finn’s drawn, worried expression hovering just in front of him.

 

“Hey,” Finn murmured, the hand returning to Iolo’s back, between his shoulder blades, and rubbing.  “You’re okay now.  Take it easy.  Just breathe.”

 

“Where.  Is.  Bas,” he managed carefully, forcing the words through his sore, aching throat.

 

“Poe’s got him,” Finn answered, but even as disoriented as Iolo felt, he could tell Finn was holding something back.  Iolo tried to sit up, pushing himself up to kneel, but Finn’s hands griped his shoulders and forced back down.  “Lo, please.  You need to relax.  The ambulance is on its way.”

 

Iolo shook his head, reaching out and weakly pushing Finn back with a palm pressed against Finn’s chest, noting vaguely that it was quivering under his touch.  His head swam uncomfortably, his stomach turning in response, as he managed to sit back on his heels.  Slowly, cautiously, he turned his head to the left, scanning the crowd of people standing at a distance, staring transfixed behind him.  Turning to his right, Iolo’s eyes rolled over Rey, speaking rapidly into her cell phone, on her feet and pacing.  She caught his gaze briefly before wincing and turning, pacing back the other direction and revealing a sight the made his heart stutter and sink.

 

Poe was on his knees over Bastian’s immobile form, right hand spread wide with his left hand on top, fingers threaded, as he pounded through chest compressions.  Even at a distance, Iolo could see Poe’s panic, his eyes darting between Bastian’s face and where his hands were pressing, lips moving soundlessly.  Abruptly Poe stopped, leaning forward to tip Bastian’s head back with one hand, pinch the prone man’s nose with his other and sealed their mouths together.

 

Iolo’s view was blocked again as Rey moved back, still talking into her cell, but Iolo couldn’t make out what she was saying—not that he cared.  Grabbing Finn’s shoulder, Iolo gathered his feet under him before struggling to his feet, too slowly for his liking but as fast as his screaming muscles would allow.  Instantly, Finn’s shoulder was under his arm, taking his weight with his arm slung around Iolo’s waist.

 

“Poe,” Rey said as Poe drew back, resuming the compressions, teeth clenched, “switch with me.”

 

“No,” Poe snapped, anger and desperation clear as Finn moved Iolo closer.  “I’ve got this.  I’ve got this!”

 

“Jesus,” Iolo breathed, legs collapsing under him against his will.  Finn caught his weight and lowered him down, knees next to Bastian’s blank face, his head lolled to the side, unaware of the frantic movements around him.  “Bas,” he mumbled senselessly, supporting his weight with on hand, his other unsteadily pressing against Bastian’s clammy forehead.

 

“Support his head,” Poe ordered.  Iolo glanced up, uncertain, but Finn was already moving around, grasping Bastian’s head between his hands and turning his almost peaceful-looking face upwards.  Poe met Iolo’s eye and held them, continuing the hard, thrusting compressions.  “I’ve got this,” he repeated, more calmly.

 

Iolo swallowed sorely around the lump in his throat as Poe lunged to breathe air back into Bastian’s lungs.  Tears trickled down Iolo’s cheeks, no longer because of the smoke still hanging heavy in the air.  Iolo spared a quick look at the burning building across the street—did someone carry him across the street? 

 

“Two blocks away,” Rey announced, bringing Iolo back.

 

“Fucking terrible fucking response time,” Finn hissed through his teeth as Poe pulled back for a third deep inhale before leaning back in.

 

“Talk to him,” Poe gasped, starting the compressions again.  Iolo tried to swallow again, eyes focused on Bastian’s calm face.

 

“We’re here, Bas,” Finn started, head bowed over his friend’s.  “You’re okay—you’re safe.  Help is almost here.  We’ll take care of everything, okay?  I promise.  Just--,”

 

“Open your eyes,” Iolo pleaded, his voice sounding damp to his own ears.  He carefully brushed the pad of his thumb over Bastian’s eyelid.  “Come on, Bas.  I need to see your brown eyes, champ.”

 

The blare of sirens burst down the block, and Finn, Poe, and Rey all groaned in relief, but Iolo only had room is his mind for one thought.

 

“—keep up the compressions until--,”

 

“—he’s—fuck, he’s trying—come on, Bas!”

 

“Lo, sit back—the EMTs--,”

 

“Bastian,” Iolo said, voice a bit steadier as he leaned out of Rey’s grasp, lips hesitantly ghosting over the prone man’s forehead.  “Please.  Just for me.  I’ll never ask you for anything again.”  And Iolo could have sworn he saw Bastian’s chest rise a fraction under Poe’s hands.

 

“Over here!  He’s unconscious,” Poe shouted, and Iolo was jerked back forcefully, strong hands not releasing him as he struggled.

 

“Let them help him,” Finn said into the shell of Iolo’s ear as a man and a woman in black blocked his view.  “We need oxygen here.  He inhaled a lot of smoke,” Finn demanded louder, and a third person in black, a man with a stern face and a plastic half-mask was in front of him.

 

“My name is Steve,” he informed Iolo.

 

“I don’t care,” Iolo snapped, trying to look around, to catch sight of Bastian, but his view was completely obscured.

 

“We’re helping your friend,” Steve said calmly.  “Let’s get you--,”

 

“We need the stretcher!”

 

“He’s breathing!”

 

“Thank God,” Finn moaned into Iolo’s sweaty hair, still holding the older man against his chest.  “He’s alive, Lo.  They’ve got him.”

 

“Need to see him,” Iolo declared before the oxygen mask was slipped over his head.  Cool air lapped through his nose, and Iolo couldn’t help but close his eyes briefly in relief.

 

The next few minutes passed blurrily as Iolo sat, crumbled on the pavement.

 

Bastian was heaved carefully onto a stretcher, body too limp.

 

Bastian’s head rolled to the side, eyes squinting, mask attached to a small oxygen tank covering his nose and mouth.

 

Their eyes met, and Iolo beamed into his mask.

 

Bastian held up his right hand, for a moment, his pinky and pointer finger held up, thumb stretched out, middle and ring finger folded down, before his arm flopped onto the stretcher weakly, eyes sliding shut again.

 

Bastian’s stretcher was popped up and wheeled away, ambulance doors closing behind him and the EMTs, barely a moment later.

 

Finn huffed a strained chuckle, Iolo’s back following the rhythm of the younger man’s inhale.  “Fuck, if this wasn’t fucking terrifying, that would’ve been adorable.”

 

“What,” Iolo asked, his words garbled by the mask as Steve pulled a stethoscope from his supply bag.  Iolo craned his head around, looking up at Finn curiously, and Finn smiled tightly back.

 

“Do ya know ASL,” Finn asked, and Iolo shook his head wordlessly in response, the words barely meaning anything to him.

 

“Help him sit up for me,” Steve said, and Finn did so, hands around Iolo’s stomach as Steve placed the diaphragm over Iolo’s right lung.

 

“Well, I’m not gonna tell you then,” Finn continued, chin on Iolo’s shoulder.  “Bas can tell you himself, once both of you are up for talking.”

 

“Finn, Poe’s going with Bas,” Rey stated, somewhere behind Iolo.  “They’re taking him to Georgetown.”

 

“Good,” Finn answered, and Iolo felt the younger man nod.  “After Iolo’s ambulance gets here, we’ll catch an Uber over.”

 

“We need to contact Bas’s family,” Rey said, kneeling down next to Iolo as Steve moved the diaphragm to Iolo’s left lung.  Curiously, Iolo looked down at his hand, folding his fingers to copy Bastian’s signal.  “Aw,” Rey cooed suddenly, patting Iolo on the head with an exhausted smile.  “We love you too, Lo.”

 

And Steve had to remind Iolo to breathe.

 

*|*|*

** _Twelve Weeks Earlier_ **

 

Bastian exhaled in a huff as he lowered himself down onto the grass, folding his knees to his chest with his feet planted shoulder width apart.  He placed the empty water bottle next to his left hip before pulling out the pack of cigarettes and silver metal lighter from his right pocket.  He flicked open the lip of the box and fished out one, trying to ignore the gap of four missing cigs.  He dropped the box next to the bottle before focusing on getting the flint to catch.  Once it did and the small blue flame wavered in the soft warm breeze, Bastian brought the end of the cigarette to it and waited for the embers to start.

 

“Another year, another cancer stick,” he said blandly, finally looking up at the smooth marble headstone and staring at the chiseled _Itsuki James Nakajima_.  “So, um, I’m doing alright,” Bastian continued, eyes dropping down to the cigarette awkwardly between the thumb and pointer finger of his left hand, watching the thin wisp of smoke curl away.  “I—started a new job.  Still in radio, which is pretty shocking.  I think we both thought this radio thing would last a year and then I’d be back waiting tables.  Or running your studio...  Who am I kidding—I would’ve been doing both.  Not like you’d be paying rent, right?”

 

Bastian breathed out a small chuckle, tapping the ashes into the empty bottle and then folding his right leg under his bent left one and leaning back on his right hand.  “But the job is great.  Great feedback from listeners and we’re angling to get a few solid interviews next month.  I think it could be something.”  He paused, squinting up into the sunlight before sighing and looking back at the tombstone.

 

“I’ve started seeing someone,” he admitted, bottom lip twisting as he flicked the next bit of ashes into the bottle.  “He’s—well, his name is Iolo.  Who knew I had a thing for ‘I’ names?  But—um—I think you would’ve liked him.  Probably wouldn’t have been best friends or anything, but you definitely would’ve talked to him if you saw him out…  I picture that, sometimes.  If you and Lo ever met…  Kind of a sick thing to think about but—well.”  Bastian swallowed and then took a deep breath.  “Anyway he’s—skeptical and dry and it cracks me up.  And he’s really nice—like he’s sneaky nice.  Like, he comes off as a complete ‘I don’t give a fuck’ guy—and you know that’s my weakness—and then he’s remembering my favorite drink or making a playlist of my favorite songs even though he doesn’t know who any of the bands are.  Like, how can I resist that?”

 

Bastian broke off with a slight hiss as an ember fell to his bare knee.  He rubbed it away and then knocked the burning end against the bottle’s rim, noticing that the burning was almost to the filter.  “Looks like my time’s almost up, Jamie.  But, um, I guess I wanted to tell you that—I’m doing okay.  I—wasn’t, for a while there, but it’s getting better.  I still…  I still wake up sometimes and forget.  But when I remember now—it doesn’t hurt as bad.  I don’t know if that’s what you’d want to hear but, well—you always were kinda selfish,” Bastian joked hollowly, tapping the last of the ashes into the bottle before snubbing the butt against the sole of his Chucks, feeling that creeping sense of déjà vu from seeing Jamie do the exact same action a million times.  “But it used to kill you when I was sad.  You’d do anything to cheer me up.  Help me with this,” he pleaded softly, reaching forward and pressing his left hand, fingers spread wide over the _James_ , silver ring fitting into the curve of the S.  “Because I was never any good at moving on, at leaving someone behind.”  Bastian hesitated for a moment before shaking himself slightly, dropping the cigarette butt into the plastic bottle, and getting to his feet quickly, bottle in hand.  “I’ll see you next year, okay?  Same time, same place.”  The next three words caught in his throat and he didn’t try to fight them out.

 

Turning on his heel, he walked off towards the parking lot, carefully walking in the straight line between gravestones.  Beside the wrought iron gate, there was a trashcan, some dying flowers discarded there, and Bastian added his bottle of cigarette ashes to it, feeling a bit guilty because the ‘No Smoking’ sign was right next to it.  Well, technically, he hadn’t been smoking.  No one had caught him anyway.

 

Iolo was leaning against the hood of Finn’s Ford, arms crossed loosely over his chest.  He watched Bastian make his way over, waiting for the younger man, waiting for some kind of signal.  Instead Bastian exhaled shakily and leaned against the driver’s door, the mirror keeping a deliberate space between them.  Iolo pursed his lips, glancing down at the mirror and then back at the other man’s face.  He looked completely exhausted, but his eyes were dry.  And maybe it made Iolo a jerk, but he was glad.

 

“Do you mind if I have a word with him,” Iolo asked, keeping his tone casual.  Bastian blinked down at the pavement before turning his face up in confusion.

 

“What,” he rasped out, and Iolo fought back the urge to reach out.  That damn mirror.

 

“Jamie.  Can I talk to him?”

 

“He—he won’t talk back,” Bastian said pointlessly, but Iolo just nodded understandingly.  Bastian’s eyebrows drew together, bemused, and then nodded back.  “Sure.  Um, do ya—I can show you which--,”

 

“I know where he is,” Iolo interrupted smoothly, not adding he had been staring at Bastian sitting there long enough to sear the image in his mind for the rest of his life.  Iolo hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans as he made his slow, deliberate way through the gate, not looking behind him but half-expecting the other man to call him back, to change his mind.  But it never came, and Iolo’s measured steps brought him to the dark marble headstone, two away from a tree that was throwing a touch of shade on the ground.  Iolo’s eyes scanned the carved words and dates on the stone, noting that the second date was in three days and memorizing it.

 

“Itsuki, huh?  No wonder Bastian’s never asked about my name,” Iolo began, planting his feet shoulder’s width apart.  “I’m not here for some macho posturing, ‘I’ve got him now’ shit.  First off, I couldn’t pull that off.  Second, I don’t have him.  Bastian isn’t like that.  And I’m guessing you knew that too,” he continued, watching the shadow of leaves waver in the breeze.  “He’s trying to scare me away, asking me to come here with him.  He thinks I don’t know, don’t see that he’s building himself again.  He thinks if he shows me that he’s not okay, I’ll run.  And the worst fucking thing is that it doesn’t matter what I say or do—he’s gonna keep thinking that until something finally clicks in his mind.  And I’m an idiot because I can see myself waiting for that for—too long.  Did he do that to you?  Try to push you away.  Or does he do it now because of you,” Iolo mused, catching himself before his mind had a chance to follow that rabbit hole.  “Well, that’s all I got.  I should get back before Bastian hyperventilates or something.”  Awkwardly, he patted the dome of the headstone.  “He’s doing good.  Has good days and bad days, doesn’t let me see the bad ones yet but I know they’re there.  But he’s good.”

 

Iolo froze mid-turn, catching sight of Bastian one plot away, his eyes wide and foot raised to step back.  “I wasn’t—uh, well--,”

 

“It’s fine,” Iolo smiled, holding out his hand in offering.  “I didn’t say anything that I wasn’t planning on telling you.  Eventually.”

 

“I really only heard the end,” Bastian admitted, looking at Iolo’s upturned hand.  “Uh, could you—come here instead?”

 

“Of course,” Iolo said quickly, moving away from Jamie’s grave swiftly and letting Bastian latch onto his hand as soon as he was within reach.  “What do you think; are you hungry or should we hit the road?”

 

Bastian cast a glance at the tombstones as he dragged Iolo out of the cemetery and back towards the car, not replying until they were past the gate.  “Uh, I’m not really—can’t really eat right now.  But if you’re--,”

 

“I’ve got snacks.  I’m fine,” Iolo shrugged, taking the keys out of his pockets and unlocking the doors with a beep.  Bastian dove for the passenger side door, and Iolo hurried in response, pulling the driver’s door open with a jerk and sliding in, shutting the door in one motion.  Bastian was already buckled in and connecting his phone to the stereo while Iolo started the car and reversed, circling the parking lot, and heading for the road.  “Well, that--,”

 

“Do you have a preference?  Driver’s choice,” Bastian interrupted, thumb flicking across his screen.  Iolo inhaled deeply through his nose.

 

“I don’t care.  Whatever you want.”

 

“That’s what you always say,” Bastian pointed out, glancing over at the older man with a small, tired smile, which Iolo reciprocated with relief.

 

“Well, that’s what I always mean.”

 

“Do you even listen to music when I’m not around or do you sit in silence all the time?”  Bastian watched as Iolo grimaced sheepishly, and Bastian’s smile grew slightly wider.  “You’re so weird, dude.”

 

“Look, not everyone needs constant stimulus piped into their ears,” Iolo said with a chuckle.  “My mind’s cluttered enough.”

 

“But, okay, so what kind of music do you listen to when you _do_?”

 

Iolo shrugged, merging from the narrow two-lane road to the church to a four-lane to the highway.  “I guess I listen to what my parents used to play around the house.”  Bastian shifted to watch Iolo expectantly, thumbs poised over his screen, and the older man felt his shoulders relax.  “Sinatra, Rat Pack, Bobby Darin—that kind of stuff.”

 

“Now we’re talking,” Bastian grinned, relieved.  “I’ve got you.”

 

“Yeah, you do,” Iolo replied, winking when Bastian’s head snapped up in surprise.  “And you’ve got me on Wednesday too, if you want.”

 

Iolo hated how Bastian’s face instantly fell, but he needed to say it, needed to make it clear.  “I—uh—I try not to think about it—on the day,” Bastian mumbled.  “This is kinda the only ritual I’ve got.”

 

“I get it.  And I would get it if seeing me isn’t exactly helpful--,”

 

“It’s not that,” Bastian shook his head, scowling down at his lap.  “Like, you’re not replacing him.  You’re not the new Jamie, in my head.”

 

Iolo managed to bite back a heartfelt ‘thank God,’ but just barely.  Nodding and smiling at the windshield, he settled for, “I’m glad.”

 

“Because you think he was a jerk,” Bastian asked teasingly.

 

“Because I want to be your ‘next’ and not your ‘repeat,’” Iolo said honestly.  “And some of the stuff you’ve told me makes him sound like a jerk,” he added in fairness.

 

Bastian snorted, ducking his head but Iolo caught the pleased smile all the same.  “You’re kind of sweet, aren’t ya, in a dark kinda way.”

 

“We all work with what we’ve got,” Iolo answered breezily.

 

“Yeah, well, you pull it off.”  Bastian paused, taking a breath as Iolo merged onto northbound I-95.  “Could—maybe I could stay over at yours, Wednesday night?  The loft isn’t—I mean, if you’re offering?”

 

“I’m offering,” Iolo said firmly.  “And you’re staying over tonight too, right?”  Bastian tilted his head left then right, debating with himself, and Iolo gently continued, “I can sleep on the couch.”

 

“I don’t—if it comes to that I’ll take the couch.  It’s pretty comfy.”

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Iolo shrugged easily, and Bastian nodded, tapping something on his phone and suddenly soft horns and drums came through the speakers.

 

_Let’s take it nice and easy_

_It’s gonna be so easy_

_For us to fall in love_

 

“Did you do that on purpose,” Iolo asked, eyes narrowed playfully.

 

“It’s on shuffle, I swear to God!”

 

“Sure,” Iolo drawled as Bastian tossed back his head and laughed for the first time since Friday, when Iolo had picked him up to go on this morbid road trip.

 

*****

 

“You sure I can’t help?”

 

Poe hissed as some grease jumped from the hot pan and caught his wrist.  “No,” he ground out, shaking his hand to ease the pin prick of burn.  “Believe it or not, I am a fully functional human adult.”

 

“And here I was thinking you were a fully functional adult platypus,” Finn teased, leaning all his weight against his forearms braced on Poe’s counter top. 

 

“Platypus?  Really,” Poe shot back with a blandly unamused look over his shoulder, moving the skillet of chicken off the heated burner.

 

“First thing that came to mind,” Finn shrugged easily.

 

“I’m trying to decide if I’m concerned that you think about platypuses frequently.”

 

“Shut up,” Finn rolled his eyes playfully, and Poe smirked before turning his attention back to his cooking.  Finn looked down at his cellphone, unlocking the screen with a swipe of his finger and frowning at the lack of notifications.  “Have you heard anything from Lo today?”

 

Poe hesitantly, using his tongs to place the breaded, pan-fried chicken breasts into the second shallow skillet of marinara sauce.  He grabbed the thick slices of mozzarella from the cutting board to the left of the stove, placing two rounds of cheese over each breast.  “He texted me—from the graveyard,” he answered carefully.  “And I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell you that.”

 

“Is—did he say anything about Bas,” Finn pressed, idly opening his texts app, looking at the last message he’d sent his friend hours earlier.

 

“Yes,” Poe drew out, sliding the skillet into the oven and then switching off the two gas burners.  He turned to face his boyfriend, wiping his hands on a green and yellow dishtowel.  “Again, I’m not sure if--,”

 

“Just tell me if he’s okay,” Finn interrupted, looking up with a hint of pleading in his eyes.  Poe worried his bottom lip between his teeth before sighing.

 

“He’s been quiet, which shouldn’t be a surprise.  But he’s holding up, from what Lo says.”

 

Finn nodded, drumming his fingers against the granite counter.  He opened his mouth to reply just as his screen lit up with an incoming call.  Finn’s heart leapt hopefully until he saw the contact.  “Um, sorry, I’ve got to take this real quick,” he mumbled, picking up his cell before Poe could read his screen. 

 

“Yeah,” Poe asked, cocking an eyebrow curiously.

 

“Han doesn’t call much,” Finn stated, barely waiting for Poe to nod in reply before turning away and heading for the sliding doors to the back yard.  “Hey, Han,” Finn said blandly into his speaker, pressing the phone to his ear and hearing the exasperated sigh in response.

 

“ _Are you never fucking alone anymore?_ ”

 

“Nope,” Finn responded lightly, shoving his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans, leaning against the frame of the door.  “What’s up?”

 

“ _Paris,_ ” Ben demanded, and Finn fought the urge to clench his teeth.

 

“Yeah,” Finn said neutrally, “what about it?”

 

“ _Do you remember the voice?_ ”

 

Finn saw Poe watching him in the reflection of the glass door and forced himself to smile.  “Oh yeah.  I remember.”

 

“ _You sure?  Swear on Luke’s life._ ”

 

“Absolutely,” Finn nodded, keeping the smile in place through pure willpower.

 

“ _Good.  Watch your email.  Be ready to leave,_ ” Ben ordered briskly.

 

Finn rolled his shoulders before managing a cheery, “Sure thing,” before his cousin ended the call.

 

“Everything okay,” Poe asked, a tad too perceptive for Finn’s taste at the moment.

 

“Yeah, yeah, no worries,” Finn shrugged, pocketing his phone quickly.  “Han gets in these weird moods sometimes.  Wants to go fishing with me.”

 

Poe’s shoulders relaxed, and Finn felt his stomach sink at the easy acceptance.  “Oh, I thought it might’ve been something more serious,” Poe smiled, turning to grab the bottle of red wine he’d opened earlier, as Finn walked back to the kitchen, hating himself.

 

“Nah, nothing like that.  He might forget about it tomorrow or I might get a call in two weeks to meet him at some dock in an hour.  Han’s random like that,” Finn explained, carefully laying the foundation, like he’d heard his father, aunt, uncle, and cousin done a thousand times.  “So, if you get a text that I’m on a boat in the Atlantic suddenly, don’t freak out.”

 

Poe chuckled, pouring out the wine carefully into two stemless glasses.  “I’ll keep that in mind.  Try and give me a bit of a head’s up, okay?”

 

“You’ll know when I know,” Finn assured, hoping that wasn’t another lie.  “Dinner almost ready?”

 

“Yeah, in five minutes,” Poe answered, checking his phone with one hand as he passed Finn one glass of Merlot.  “Looks like Lo and Bas just got back.  Just under four hours.  Lo says everything’s good.”

 

“Thank God,” Finn exhaled, smiling tightly and holding up his glass with a meaningful look. 

 

Poe smiled warmly, quickly picking up his own glass and tapping it against Finn’s with a soft clink.  “Thank God,” he echoed before the two took a gulp of their wine, each feeling relieved and slightly anxious, for different reasons.     


	2. Got Back Just in Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm blown away from the reactions on the first chapter! Wow!

** _Present Day_ **

 

“What are you doing here?!”

 

“Good to see you too, bud,” Poe huffed, drained, dragging his feet over to Iolo’s hospital cot, glancing at the green numbers on the monitors and wishing he’d watched more _House_ episodes to know what any of them meant.  “What’s the verdict down here?”

 

“I’m fine, you need to be with Bastian,” Iolo said in one breath, pushing himself upright and sending a glare to the IV in his left arm that pulled uncomfortably.  “Is he--,”

 

“I’m on my way there,” Poe interrupted smoothly, handing over the forgotten cot remote, which Iolo took and glared at.  “They’re letting me sit with him, but he’ll be in and out for a while.  Are they running any tests on you?”

 

Iolo shook his head, grinding his teeth as he adjusted the cot to support his back.  “Keeping me for observation, like I’m some fucking science experience—fucking bean plant under a fucking florescent light…”

 

“It could’ve been worse,” Poe pointed out lowly and his friend winced, eyes falling to the thin blanket over his legs.  Poe sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the cot and patting Iolo’s knee.  “He’s going to be okay.  From what I understand, he got really lucky.  They’re going to give him some breathing assistance or something and an IV for hydration but that’s it.”

 

“Thank God,” Iolo breathed, his chest clenching uncomfortably.  “He was so still and--,”

 

“And it’s over,” Poe said firmly, letting Iolo grip his fingers, to reassure himself.  “Um, there’s one other thing though.  Nothing serious,” he added quickly at Iolo’s alarmed look, “but he’s got a couple cracked ribs.”

 

Iolo blinked.  “The CPR?”  Poe nodded with an apologetic grimace.  “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t _thank_ me,” Poe countered, sounding and feeling disgusted.  “Jesus Christ, what else was I going to do?”  Iolo didn’t say anything, too distracted replaying the memory in his mind, and Poe lightly smacked his friend’s cheek twice to bring him back.  “The fourth-string guy finally earned his spot, right?”

 

Iolo cracked a wane smile at that.  “I think you might’ve been upgraded a while ago, if we’re being honest.”

 

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew Poe’s attention.  Hovering just inside the curtain partition, his jacket over his left arm and his shirt sleeves rolled above his elbows was Finn, glancing nervously between the two men on the cot.  Iolo followed Poe’s gaze and frowned.  Finn swallowed visibly and opened his mouth, but Poe beat him to it.  “Really, we should be grateful there wasn’t another _fishing trip_ , right, Lo,” he asked flatly, rhetorically.

 

Finn winced as Poe got to his feet.  “Poe, listen--,”

 

“I’ve got to check on someone,” Poe cut in, moving to leave but pausing next to the younger man.  “He’s in room 348, if you care.”

 

Finn sighed but stepped aside to let Poe leave, eyes trained on his shoes.

 

“That wasn’t fucking awkward at all,” Iolo mentioned, cocking an eyebrow.

 

“I can go,” Finn offered.

 

“Cut the pathetic act and get in here,” Iolo rolled his eyes.  “Were you able to get ahold of Micah?”

 

“Not yet,” Finn answered, sitting on the hard, plastic chair next to Iolo’s bed.  “I left a message on his cell…I’ll try again in a bit.”  Iolo groused but nodded, cursing himself for the hundredth time that hour he hadn’t thought to get Bastian’s brother’s number at some point.  For when shit like this happened…  “Did—did Poe say anything--,”

 

“About you?  Funnily enough he seemed to have other things on his mind,” Iolo drawled sarcastically.  Finn shot him an unamused look, and Iolo relented with a shrug.  “Look, I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you two anymore, but if Bastian almost _dying_ isn’t enough to shake some sense into both of you then it’s probably over.”

 

Finn snorted at that, despite everything.  “I mean, you’re not wrong,” he allowed.  “What did he mean, about being fourth-string?”

 

Iolo tilted his head to the left, staring at the younger man.  “Jesus, you’ve missed everything, haven’t you?”

 

** _Ten Weeks Earlier_ **

 

“Seriously, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Yeah, I got that after the first hundred times,” Bastian commented lightly, not bothering to look up from his menu until fingers curled around his and he glanced up at the utterly contrite face across from him.  “Lo, it’s okay.  So totally okay.  I wasn’t even mad the first time you apologized.”

 

“I feel like shit,” Iolo replied honestly.  “It’s just—they take it for granted that I don’t have plans, so they just drop this on me and expect me to show up.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Bastian grimaced in sympathy.  “Being the last unmarried, un-reproduced family member sucks.  But also rocks,” he added with a crooked smile.  “Seriously, the number of times I’m told Saturday night that I’m expected somewhere Sunday morning is ridiculous.”

 

“It’s the worse,” Iolo moaned, self-pityingly, and Bastian snorted and shrugged in response.  “If it wasn’t my youngest cousin, I wouldn’t even--,”

 

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to chill,” Bastian interrupted, setting his menu down over his silverware, twisting his fingers between Iolo’s, and sliding one leg under his butt to lean forward across the table.  Iolo looked apprehensive and Bastian prompted, “Breathing is good.”  The older man took an exaggerated inhale, much to the younger man’s satisfaction.  “I am officially absolving you of your responsibility of escorting me tomorrow night.  Please go to Delaware and have a good time and stop stressing.”

 

“Do you two need a minute?”

 

Iolo dropped his head because, of course he picked now to show up, but Bastian smiled good-naturedly up at Poe, who was standing behind the seat next to Bastian.  “Nah, we’re all good.  Where did ya leave your better half, gum drop?”

 

Poe scowled playfully, rubbing his palm over Bastian’s curls carefully.  “He’s very sorry but he had to cancel.”

 

“Okay, now I’m starting to take this personally,” Bastian announced as Iolo asked,

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, nothing serious,” Poe shrugged, hands in his pockets.  “Apparently his uncle is feeling nostalgic and took Finn off for a fishing weekend.”

 

“Finn fishes,” Iolo asked Bastian, who narrowed his eyes in response.

 

“I’ll have you know I don’t carry around a laminated list of Finn-approved hobbies.  But yeah, I guess he’s mentioned going fishing as a kid once or twice,” he directed to Poe, who smiled back.

 

“I wasn’t concerned.  Anyway, since the double date is off, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

 

“Nice try,” Iolo smirked as Bastian pulled out the chair next to him with a pointed look at the standing man.  “I was thinking about getting some arancini, thoughts?”

 

“I’m down,” Bastian replied as Poe shook his head and took a seat.

 

“What were you getting absolved for when I got here,” Poe asked, accepting the menu Iolo passed him with a nod.

 

“I’m bailing on Bastian tomorrow night,” Iolo answered with a small frown.

 

“And Bastian doesn’t give a fuck,” Bastian snapped before casting a quick glance to the ceiling and mumbling, “sorry.”

 

Poe and Iolo both looked up curiously and then shrugged at each other.  “What’s happening tomorrow,” Poe asked instead.

 

“Lucy’s engagement party—not that anyone bothered to tell me,” Iolo scowled.

 

“Little Lucy is _engaged_ ,” Poe gaped, eyes wide.  “Isn’t she, like, twelve?”

 

“Twenty-four.  I know,” Iolo shook his head as Poe whistled low in surprise, “I don’t know when that happened either.”

 

“Probably in the twelve years you thought she was frozen in time, damn,” Bastian countered with a crooked smile.  “You oldies are all the same.  I’ve got this cousin in Dallas who would swear on a Bible I’m still sixteen.”

 

“For your sake, I’m going to ignore that you just called me old,” Iolo drawled, and Bastian shot him a charming grin in idle apology.

 

“You’re leaving me to sit through a wedding by myself.  Let’s call it even, yeah?”

 

“What is this, wedding central,” Poe joked as the waiter appeared at the end of the table beside Iolo and Bastian.

 

“Basically.  Hi, I’m Bastian and this is Chad and Derrick,” Bastian introduced with a huge beaming smile.  “How’s your day going?”

 

“Does he do this every time,” Poe whispered as the waiter replied that he was having a nice day, thanks so much.

 

“Every other,” Iolo shrugged.  “Go with it, he thinks he’s being cute.”

 

“—and Derrick will take some cyanide, right,” Bastian said, slightly louder with a slight glare at the green-eyed man across from him, who just raised an eyebrow challengingly.

 

“I’m not sure our bartender has the ingredients,” the waiter stated smoothly, casting a nervous glance at Iolo.

 

“Shame, I’ll stick with a dry red in that case.”

 

“Make that two,” Poe said, voice shaking with suppressed mirth.

 

“And I’ll just have a water,” Bastian added.

 

“Seriously?  After all that you’re getting water,” Poe accused incredulous as the waiter moseyed away.

 

“Some of us don’t need alcohol to have fun, gum drop.”

 

***

 

The doorbell rang just as the dwarves were singing about everything Bilbo Baggins hates.  Poe frowned, checking the time on his cable box.  11:26 on a Saturday night.  He paused the movie with one hand and checked his cellphone with the other.  Seeing no messages or missed calls, Poe narrowed his eyes, looking over his shoulder and down the hall to his front door.  He couldn’t make out any shadow or figure in the tall windows bracketing his door, but that didn’t reassure him much.  Looking around for some kind of defense, his gaze fell on the iron poker beside his fireplace.

 

Deciding it was better than nothing, Poe grabbed it as he started moving for the door, taking care to walk softly across his wooded floorboards.  Once he was close enough he slid to press his chest against the door, squinting through the peephole in the door, adjusting his grip on the iron pole just in case.  Catching sight of the profile through the bubbled glass, Poe bit back a groan and flicked open the deadbolt with his free hand.

 

“I thought you were at a wedding,” he said without preamble as he pulled open the door with enough force to cause the man on his doorstep to jump in surprise.

 

“Was.  I was at a wedding,” Bastian corrected, shifting his weight and sounding strangely morose.

 

“Are you drunk,” Poe asked, running his eyes down Bastian’s body, scanning his black suit jacket with a white orchid in the buttonhole, the black button-up shirt with the top three buttons undone, tucked into burgundy pants cuffed over black dress shoes.

 

“Not even slightly,” Bastian sighed before holding up a black, unmarked shopping bag for the older man to see.  “I kinda want to change that.”

 

Poe mulled over his options quickly before coming to the conclusion he only had one choice that didn’t end with his nuts getting chopped off by one of three people.  “Come on in.  How do you know where I live,” he continued as Bastian slumped his way inside and toed off his shoes.

 

“Oh.  Uh, I thought—he didn’t tell you,” Bastian stammered, blinking.  “Well, now it’s kinda awkward.”

 

“It was my dad, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yep,” Bastian nodded and Poe rolled his eyes, locking the door and leading the way back to the living room.  “He also gave me his cell number, your house phone, the number of someone named Tia Angelina…”

 

“Jesus, don’t call Angelina unless there’s an atomic bomb or something,” Poe warned, replacing the iron poker and gesturing for Bastian to take a seat.  “She doesn’t mess around.”

 

“Noted,” Bastian replied seriously, eyes wide in apprehensive fear as he sunk down onto the couch.  Poe held out his hand with a pointed look at the bag between Bastian’s feet.  Almost sheepishly, he handed it over and Poe inspected the six pack inside.

 

“I’ll get the bottle opener,” Poe offered, setting the beer on the coffee table and moving into the kitchen.  “So, what, did the reception wrap up early?”

 

“Not exactly,” Bastian mumbled, almost too softly for Poe to catch as he fished his old Virginia Tech bottle opener out of his junk drawer.  Poe stayed quiet, waiting for the younger man to continue, but Bastian just accepted the VT-shaped gadget that Poe passed over on his way to the armchair.

 

“Who got married,” Poe pressed, figuring Bastian would eventually come around to why he was sitting on Poe’s couch unexpectedly.

 

“My old college roommate,” Bastian answered, cracking open a beer and simply cradling it between his palms as he drew his legs up onto the couch cushion.  “Frankie.  He’s cool, chill.  He and Jasmine are a good match.”  Poe nodded even though he had no clue what Bastian was talking about.  “I kinda set them up, seven years ago.”

 

“Oh yeah?  You’ve always been the little matchmaker, huh,” Poe teased, leaning back and propping his feet on the corner of the coffee table.

 

Bastian grimaced and took a pull of beer.  “Not really.  It—wasn’t exactly selfless of me.”

 

“Go on,” Poe prompted before Bastian had the chance to trail off again.  Bastian shot him a nervous look as he took another swallow of beer.

 

“Well, Jazz was…around at the loft a lot.  Jamie didn’t care; honestly, I don’t think he even noticed.  But I did, and I wasn’t very secure.  I mean, I was nineteen, twenty—who the hell isn’t a little insecure at that age?”

 

“She was all over your man and you tried to pawn her off on your friend,” Poe grinned knowingly.  “Some time you should ask Lo about Ryan.”

 

“I will,” Bastian smiled tiredly.  “But yeah, that’s what I did.  And seven years later they got married.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like you’ve got anything to feel guilty about,” Poe stated with a shrug.  “In fact, that sounds like a happy ending to me.”

 

“Yeah,” Bastian muttered darkly, grip tightening around the glass bottle.  “I think it is.”

 

Poe frowned, tilting his head to the side.  “So, what’s the problem?”

 

“There shouldn’t be one.”

 

“But there is and you’re beating around some bush I can’t even see right now,” Poe countered quickly, trying to sound awake and invested.  “And if you don’t want to talk about it, you can tell me that.  But I think you want to tell _someone_ , and I’m all you’ve got right now.”

 

“I mean, it’s not like you’re a _terrible_ choice--,”

 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Poe waved Bastian’s weak protest away.  “But if Lo or Finn or even Rey were around, you’d be with one of them now, right?”  Bastian shrugged uncomfortably.  “Well, I think that makes sense,” Poe continued easily.  “And I’m not offended, so stop looking like you want to sink through the floor.”

 

Bastian’s lips twitched up slightly at that, turning his focus to the bottle between his hands.  Poe waited, deciding he had spoken his piece at this point and the ball was in the other’s court.

 

“The ceremony was nice,” Bastian mentioned after two minutes passed in silence, Poe watching the time pass on the digital clock under his TV.  Poe hummed encouraging, weaving his fingers together and folding his hands in his lap.  “Catholic, ya know, so it was basically a full-body aerobics exercise.”

 

Poe snorted, pulling at the corner of his right eye with a smirk.  “Please tell me you didn’t say that in church.”

 

“Might’ve thought it,” Bastian admitted with a wily smile and shrug.  “But I blessed myself twice with holy water and didn’t call the wafers Christ Crackers so I think I’m good.”

 

“Fuck, you’re gonna get struck by lightning,” Poe breathed with a chuckle, wondering if he should ask his dad to say a rosary for him.

 

Bastian shrugged again, looking down at the brown glass bottle in his hands.  “I got an Uber over to the reception venue.  Nice restaurant, right on the river in Old Town.”

 

Poe whistled softly.  “That cost someone an arm and a leg.”

 

“Nah, Jasmine’s mother is loaded.  I’m talking Chanel and diamonds at homecoming weekend,” Bastian explained with wide eyes.  “She scares me.”

 

Poe nodded understandingly.  “I think she probably would scare me too.”

 

Bastian shot Poe a quick smile at the solidarity before a distant, distracted look came over his face.  “It was fine until the happy hour started,” he remembered, voice strained.

 

_“Why are you standing over here, like a loner?  Trying to look mysterious?”_

_Bastian shifted around, making room at the small round tall table for the man next to him to sidle up to his side.  “Hey, Kai.  What’s up,” Bastian asked with an easy smile, reaching around his old friend to snag a chicken and biscuit slider off a silver tray as a waiter passed.  Bastian placed the appetizer on his cocktail napkin before taking a real look at his beaming friend.  “You look great.  Did you mean for the strap to be off your shoulder or is that just a happy accident?”_

_“Shit,” Kai muttered, pulling the thin strap of his emerald green satin dress over his shoulder.  “It keeps falling down.  Can you tighten it for me?”_

_“Yeah, turn around,” Bastian said simply, and Kai obliged, shrugging his black shawl down to the crook of his elbows so Bastian had access to the small adjustable slide.  Feeling like he was back in his theatre days, in the chaos of a crowded dressing room, Bastian pulled the left slide up and the satin down until the strap was snug against Kai’s skin.  “There.  Wait, one sec,” Bastian paused Kai midturn to close the little clasp above the dress zipper._

_“You’re a star, Bas,” Kai grinned, leaning against the table and saluting Bastian with his martini glass.  Bastian shrugged, not feeling the praise was necessary.  He’d been an early supporter of Kai’s “I’m a guy who wears dresses” lifestyle back in sophomore year, and he’d never wavered.  Besides, the guy could pull off anything.  “Seriously though, are you going to hide back here all night?”_

_“Not hiding,” Bastian countered half-heartedly, taking a large gulp of his dark and stormy as Kai trained a disbelieving look at him.  “I_ might _be avoiding some people but--,”_

_“If they say one fucking word we’ll pulverize them,” Kai interrupted quickly, and Bastian huffed out a soft chuckle._

_“One of these days we have to get through a wedding without threatening someone’s life,” Bastian mentioned, but Kai scoffed and waved the comment away._

_“Like Frankie expects anything else from us.  Come on,” he whined, tugging lightly on Bastian’s blazer sleeve.  “Forget about_ them _and come hang out with us.”_

_Bastian took his time, nibbling on a corner of fried chicken poking out of the sliced biscuit.  “Fill me in,” he suggested, and knowing instantly he’d made the right choice as Kai’s face lit up._

_“Well, Thea and I are great.  Obviously,” he added with a gesture to the fading love bite on his neck that Bastian hadn’t commented on._

_“Obviously,” Bastian echoed, thinking that some things never changed._

_“But you’ll never guess,” Kai went on, excited.  “So Theo--,”_

_“No,” Bastian groaned playfully, Kai laughing in response.  “What did he do now?”_

_“No, it’s a good thing this time,” Kai said, hand on Bastian’s shoulder.  “He’s with Carmen and Jackson.”  Bastian snorted into his drink, coughing and sputtering as Kai nodded frantically.  “I know, right?!  No one saw it coming.  Like, even Thea thought Theo was a loss cause.”_

_“They’ll eat him alive,” Bastian gaped, imagining the power couple of their little crew and the mischief-making, walking disaster, all in a relationship._

_“Well, you’d know,” Kai teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Bastian frowned, shaking his head once, and Kai dropped it.  “But seriously, I think it’ll be good for all of them.  Jack and Carmen always needed someone to keep the balance, and we all know keeping Theo in one piece is at least a two-person job.”_

_Bastian hummed noncommittally.  “I mean, if they’re happy.”_

_“It’s early days, but they seem well-suited,” Kai assured.  “You can talk to Theo if you want.”_

_“Don’t want to step on any toes.  Besides, Thea’s probably monitoring their thing enough for the rest of us.”_

_Kai sighed, shaking his head.  “You can ask to get on her weekly email updates on him.”_

_“Even for twins, they’re really close,” Bastian mumbled, mostly to himself, but Kai heard and nodded with battle-worn experience in his eyes.  Bastian took another gulp of his drink, eyes drifting over to the bar, where the other mid-twenties guests were gathered.  Swallowing, he said, “Guess I can’t put it off any longer, huh?”_

_“That’s the spirit,” Kai chimed cheerfully, slapping Bastian on the back before pulling him away from his sanctuary by the DJ setup.  “Remember, don’t let the morons see you sweat, and the safe-word is still ‘pumpernickel.’”_

_“You know,” Bastian mentioned as he was led towards the bar, “it’s way harder to spit out ‘pumpernickel’ than you’d think.”_

_“Don’t tell me he’s safe-wording already,” Thea asked, appearing on Bastian’s left, holding up the train of her blush-colored dress and looping her arm through Bastian’s._

_“I’m not,” Bastian answered quickly before leaning over a kissing the short blonde on the cheek.  “I heard about Theo.”_

_“Don’t,” Thea warned with a roll of her eyes.  “I just can’t with that today.  What about you?  I heard you on the radio this morning.  You’re fantastic.”_

_Bastian smiled sheepishly, almost forgetting why he’d been avoiding everyone as they drew up to the bar.  “Thanks, Thea.  It’s been nuts.”_

_“There’s our prodigal son,” Jackson announced, gently cupping Bastian’s cheek with his large palm with too much tenderness, but Bastian allowed it.  “I caught a glimpse of you at the church.  You didn’t have to hide behind a column.”_

_“I got there late,” Bastian defended quickly, accepting a one-armed hug from Carmen and then a quick kiss on the forehead from Theo, wearing a blush shirt and tie that matched his twin’s dress exactly.  “I wasn’t--,”_

_“Sure,” Jackson cut in with a knowing look, and Bastian scowled, preparing a retort when they friendly bubble got popped._

_“It’s good to see you out,” Celine offered on behalf of the second group of twenty-somethings, clustered around the bend in the bar.  Bastian nodded back at the blue-haired woman, waving at the others as Jackson settled a hand on the back of Bastian’s neck, maybe as comfort or as a reminder._

_“We thought maybe that serious guy we saw you with might be here,” Trent mentioned, Celine and the other four tattooed individuals nodded._

_Bastian swallowed drily, and Jackson’s grip tightened ever so slightly.  “Yeah, well, he couldn’t make it,” he replied shortly._

_“There’s nothing to be ashamed of if it didn’t work out,” Lucas commented, flicking his green and blue-dyed bangs out of his eyes._

_“I mean, we kinda figured,” Eliza said with a sympathetic wince that made Bastian’s skin crawl.  “We all know how hard it’s been for you.”_

_“They don’t know shit,” Kai muttered for Bastian’s benefit, but Bastian slid his foot to press against Kai’s gold sandal clad one._

_“Actually, Iolo and I are working out just fine,” Bastian answered with a strained smile.  “But thanks for the concern.  Nice to know all of you still—worry about me.”_

_“Of course,” Celine rejoined, voice warm with sympathy as she reached over to squeeze Bastian’s wrist resting on the bar top.  “We’ve all be thinking of you.  Especially now.”_

_“The anniversary,” Trent added, as if Bastian might have forgotten._

_“And with this wedding,” Eliza added, gesturing around to the dance floor and the candle-lit lanterns illuminating the room._

_“The wedding,” Bastian asked, confused.  “What about the wedding?”_

_“Well, you know,” Celine shrugged.  “We all know this was supposed to be yours.”_

“What the fuck?!”

“Yeah,” Bastian mumbled, rubbing his knuckles against his temple.

“She did not fucking say that,” Poe snapped, hands curling into tight fists against the leather of his armchair as the younger man nodded miserably.  “That’s—no, there’s—that’s so fucked up I don’t know where to start!”

“Neither did we,” Bastian said quietly, picking his thumb nail against the tattered beer label, letting the scraps fall to the floor with the others.  “Never seen them so shocked.  Hell, even when I told them Jamie was—gone—they at least said _something_.  But we just stared at them and…” Bastian trailed off, shaking his head.

Poe worried his bottom lip between his teeth, taking in the younger man’s slump shoulders, his legs bent to his chest until he was curled into a tight ball.  “I’m so sorry, Bas.  You didn’t deserve that.”

“Jamie never talked about marrying me,” Bastian stated, voice rough.  “I mean, it was kinda assumed we were it…that we’d be together.  But he never--,”

“Even if he had,” Poe interrupted firmly, “they had no right to say that to you.  For one it’s fucking disrespectful to everyone involved.  For another, you said you were seeing someone—they _knew_ you were seeing someone.  What the fuck were they aiming at to bring up something like that?!”  Bastian heaved a sigh, shrugging again but no replying, staying curled in on himself.  Poe tapped his foot rapidly, wondering what he could say, until his eyes fell on his cellphone.  “Tell you what, do you want to hang here for the night?”

“I mean, I’ve probably bothered you enough for one weekend--,”

“Shut up,” Poe dismissed quickly, getting to his feet.  “I’ll grab you something to wear and we can--,” he looked around for inspiration, gaze landing on his paused scene, “have you ever seen _The Hobbit_?”

Bastian blinked, looking over at the blurred picture of singing dwarves.  “No.  I never even read the book.”

“Great, we’ll do a marathon,” Poe announced bracingly, picking up his phone as he headed for his bedroom.  “Open one of those beers for me,” he called over his shoulder, flicking on the overhead light with one hand and dialing with his other.  Checking to make sure Bastian was occupied, Poe closed the door quietly behind him, bringing the phone to his ear.

_“Hey, what’s up?”_

“I think you need to get back here,” Poe stated without preamble, and he could almost hear Iolo drawing himself up on the other end.

_“Tell me what happened.”_

***

 

“Hey, Bas,” Poe murmured, shaking the younger man’s shoulder lightly.  Bastian, who had dozed off, head lulled against Poe’s shoulder, mouth parted slightly, woke with a small start, blinking and rubbing his nose as he sat up.

“I wasn’t asleep,” Bastian countered, and Poe smiled softly back, patting him on the back of his head before stretching his arms over his head.

“You’re about to miss the elves,” Poe said, unpausing the movie and smirking as Bastian flinched back at the large spiders suddenly scuttling across the screen.

“Whoa, hold the phone,” Bastian said loudly, pressing back into the couch cushions as if trying to get away.  “No one said anything about stupid monster spiders!”

“They’re probably more scared of you than you are of them,” Poe teased, draping an arm over the back of the couch, behind Bastian’s head.

“Like hell they are!  They’re about to eat Thorin,” Bastian snapped in mild outrage, waving at the screen.

“Well, that would be a hell of an anticlimax,” Poe chuckled, grinning evilly as he suddenly tapped his fingertips across the back of Bastian’s neck while the younger man was transfixed on the movie.  Bastian yelped and scrambled away with a glare, and Poe almost missed the doorbell because he was cackling so hard.

“Was—was that in the movie,” Bastian asked hesitantly, frowning as Poe paused the movie again and pushed himself to his feet.  The doorbell rang again, two quick buzzes, and Poe moved for the door as Bastian slid to the floor, hiding between the couch and the coffee table.

“How was the drive,” Poe asked, opening the door and stepping to the side, letting the exhausted man slump past him.

 

“Weirdly enough, no traffic at one in the fucking morning,” Iolo retorted, dragging a hand down his face.  “Where’s the man of the hour?”

 

“If it’s orcs, I’m not going Bilbo Baggins for you,” came Bastian’s voice, and Iolo felt some of the tension ease from his neck and shoulders.

 

Poe watched the fond expression spread over his friend’s face and shook his head incredulously.  “I never thought I’d see the day.”

 

Iolo didn’t have to ask.  He glanced at Poe out of the corner of his eye, hefting his overnight duffel bag higher on his shoulder.  “Neither did I, actually.”

 

“What’s going on,” Bastian called, creeping on his elbows and stomach to peek around the side table.  He watched two pairs of feet, one in socks and the other in tan desert boots, walk into the room, and he popped up, startling Iolo into stumbling back, wide-eyed.  “Lo?  What the hell?  What are you doing here?”

 

“I’d ask you the same thing, except Poe filled me in,” Iolo said drily, strolling over and leaning against the back of the sofa, training a hard look on the kneeling man.  “What I’d like to know is why I didn’t hear it from you.”

 

Bastian looked between Iolo and Poe, who held up his hands and went into the kitchen.  “I—did he make you come back?”

 

“No one _made_ me do anything,” Iolo countered, raising an eyebrow.  “I drove here because you were upset and sad and thought I didn’t need to know.”

 

“I didn’t—you were busy,” Bastian blurted, looking genuinely lost and confused.  “I would’ve told you later!”

 

“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me,” Iolo said firmly, shaking his head.  “I don’t care if I’m delivering babies in taxis--,”

 

“Huh,” Poe asked from the kitchen.

 

“—if it involves you, I wanna know as soon as possible,” Iolo finished, leaving Bastian blinking.

 

“Why?”

 

“ _Why_ ,” Iolo echoed, surprised.  “Because.  Because—because you’re you and I’m me and that’s how things are right now.”

 

Bastian’s eyes grew, scanning Iolo’s face for anything other than open honesty.  “Really?”

 

“Seriously,” Iolo nodded, eyes not leaving Bastian’s face.  “Does that sound like something you’d be okay with?”

 

Poe wondered if he shouldn’t be witnessing whatever this was, but he also found himself stuck in place, waiting for the answer.

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’d—I think I’m good with that.”

 

** _Monday Morning_ **

 

“How was the fishing,” Iolo asked, taking his seat and flicking through the pages on his clipboard.

 

“Not even a nibble,” Finn grumbled, taking a swig of his third cup of coffee and hoping he’d start feeling alive soon.  “You do anything cool this weekend?”

 

Iolo looked up over the rim of his glasses, taking in the sleepy man in the chair across from his in the sound booth.  “I’ll tell you about it later.  Keep drinking that coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to all of you glorious readers! Every single one who left a comment or kudos or just read the last chapter-I'm so humbled and thankful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back!

** _Present Day_ **

 

“Hey there, buddy.  You coming around?”

 

Bastian blinked groggily, streaks of yellow, florescent light beginning to come into focus above him.  He tried to orientate himself, smoothing his palms along worn sheets, head propped on a pillow, maybe two.  Swallowing felt like rubbing sandpaper against a straw and the beeping in his ears increased.

 

“They gave you a tube.  You were pretty rough back there.”

 

Bastian frowned, rolling his head towards the voice.  Poe smiled wanly back, arms crossed over his white t-shirt-clad chest, legs stretched out in front of him, jeans smeared with dirt.  Poe heaved himself out of the small plastic chair beside the curtain room divider and moved to perch carefully on the open side of Bastian’s cot.

 

“The doctor said you’ll be in and out for a bit.  So don’t worry about falling asleep,” Poe continued, swiping the pads of his fingers against Bastian’s forehead.  Bastian reached for Poe’s hand, hissing at the sudden pain in his torso.  “Careful,” Poe murmured, dropping his hand into the younger man’s and lowering the clasped appendages to the mattress.  “You’ve got some cracked ribs.  My fault.  But it worked, so you’re not getting an apology.”

 

Bastian smiled behind the hard mask, not understanding but not too worried about it.  He rotated their joined hands, carefully testing what movements hurt or pulled on the IV in his arm, until Poe’s was palm up against the blue sheets.  Bastian unthreaded their fingers before unsteadily tracing out _L-O_ on Poe’s palm.

 

Poe snorted, lips twitching up.  “Do you even remember what happened?”  Bastian blinked up at the older man, and Poe sighed.  “No?  And your first question is where’s Lo?  Fuck you,” Poe huffed without any anger, shaking his head and squeezing Bastian’s fingers gently.  “He’s fine.  Much better than you.  The doctor wants to keep him under observation, but he’ll probably be released tonight.”  Bastian’s eyes drifted to the faded yellow curtain behind Poe, and the older man followed his gaze.  “Ah.  No, he’s not here.  Knowing him, he’s probably raising hell about that.”

 

Bastian nodded in agreement, holding on to Poe’s fingers as he tried to remember _something_.  Smoke.  There had been smoke, everywhere.  So much he couldn’t see.  And hot, too hot.  And hands…shouting, lots of shouting…  Against Poe’s palm he stroked _F-I-R-E_ and Poe grimaced.

 

“Yeah.  That’s right, but don’t worry about it now.  You should try and get some rest.  The nurse said you’d be out longer,” Poe said, checking the time on the clock on the wall by the door.  Bastian frowned, glancing over at the monitor emitting the beeping.  “Don’t worry about that.  It’s just there to remind me you’re okay,” Poe soothed, gently turning the younger man’s face away from the screen.  “Do you need some music?  Hold on, let’s see what I’ve got,” Poe trailed off, fishing his cellphone out of his pocket without moving from his spot or releasing his slightly too-tight hold on Bastian’s hand.  He typed in his password with his thumb and, ignoring the ten unread text notifications, opened his music app.  “I think I’ve still got that playlist you made… Fuck, that feels like years ago now…”

 

_Oh, misty eye of the mountain below_

_Keep careful watch over my brothers’ souls_

 

“Jesus, this song,” Poe smiled down at his screen, feeling the bone-deep exhaustion ease in his chest.  “I didn’t know you put that on—oh,” he broke off softly, noticing Bastian’s eyes were already shut, lids fluttering minutely.  Poe smiled at that, letting himself stare a bit longer than would usually be sociably acceptable.  But whatever—if there’s ever an excuse for staring creepily, it’s after fighting air into a guy’s lungs.

 

And if that gave him something to do other than acknowledge the man leaning against the doorframe, watching them with a closed-off expression, then it was a win-win.

 

** _Nine Weeks Earlier_ **

 

Bastian paused in mixing one part red with two parts blue at the sound of knocking on the door.  He placed the long-handled brush across the palette and pushed himself to his feet, stretching his arms over his head as he walked over to the door of his loft.  Not bothering to check through the peephole, he flicked the deadbolt open and took a step back for whoever it was to come in.

 

“Hey, stranger,” he said brightly, and Finn rolled his eyes, closing the door behind him.

 

“Hi, strangest,” Finn retorted and letting his friend tug him into a hug.  “Like you’re one to talk,” he added, rubbing a hand along Bastian’s spine before stepping back.  “You’re always with Iolo nowadays, aren’t you?”

 

“Is that the tiniest hint of jealousy I hear?  Because I remember a not-so-distant past when you and a certain someone was joined at the hip,” Bastian teased, moseying back to the splattered drop cloth where a stretched canvas was propped against the white wall.  “Help yourself to anything,” he called as he folded himself down, cross-legged in front of the canvas, observing how his silhouette cast a shadow against the right edge of the canvas and considered it.

 

“Thanks, and I’m not jealous,” Finn countered as he wandered over to the fridge and pulled open the sticky door, bending over to figure out his options before he grabbed a glass bottle of mocha Frappuccino.  “I’m just saying I don’t think I’ve heard Iolo say anything off-air that hasn’t been about you in weeks.”

 

“Really?  That’s kinda sweet,” Bastian cooed with a pleased smile, collecting some of the violet mixture onto his brush and beginning to trace the outline of his shadow head.

 

“It’s kinda weird, but whatever,” Finn dismissed with a shrug, shaking the bottle and moving to join his friend.  “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m entering the trace state that will allow me to transverse the seven realms,” Bastian answered seriously, stroking some of the excess paint along the curve of his shadow’s neck.

 

“Alright, smart alack,” Finn drawled, kneeling beside the small collection of acrylic paint tubes and popping open the cap of his coffee.  “I didn’t know you painted.”

 

“Oh, I don’t,” Bastian shrugged, twisting his brush’s bristles in the paint before returning his attention to the canvas.  “They’re Jamie’s old supplies.”

 

Finn took a large gulp of his sweet beverage, feeling a bit proud that Bastian was opening up about his former boyfriend.  From what Iolo and even _Poe_ had mentioned off-handedly, Finn was starting to feel like he was the only person Bastian wasn’t talking to.  “Do you miss him,” Finn asked gently.

 

Bastian stayed silent, finishing the swoop of his shoulder and then adjusting his grip to feather the inner edge of the paint.  “Hey, mix me another color, will you,” he asked instead, nodding from the paint to the palette.

 

“Uh, sure,” Finn mumbled uncertainly.  “What kind of color?”

 

“Any kind.  You can’t go wrong,” Bastian assured lightly, washing out his brush in the small take-out plastic container of water before passing it over to his friend.  Finn took it nervously, like it was a sharp knife, putting down his bottle and examining the five colors he had to choose from.  Bastian waited until Finn picked up the yellow oxide before saying casually, “I don’t miss him, exactly, which I kinda feel guilty about.”

 

“That’s not something to feel guilty about,” Finn said seriously, squeezing a small dollop into a small round dip of the white plastic palette, twisting the top back on and reaching for the titanium white.  “Trust me, there’s so much bigger things to feel guilty about.”

 

“And what do you know about that,” Bastian ribbed gently, flicking the younger man’s nose before leaning back on his palms, not noticing Finn’s dry gulp.  “I think it’s hard to explain.  I don’t want Jamie to be dead, obviously, but I don’t really want him _here_ …now.”

 

“Because of Iolo,” Finn pressed, swirling the white and yellow until it was a pale, baby chick color.

 

“Maybe.  Or maybe I’m just not the guy Jamie loved anymore,” Bastian admitted, accepting the brush when it was offered it to him.  “If he walked in the door now, he wouldn’t even recognize me.”

 

Finn chewed on his bottom lip as Bastian began blurring the violet with the soft yellow, short quick strokes towards the right edge of the canvas.  “Does that bother you,” he asked eventually, gaze fixed on Bastian’s profile.

 

“Not really.  I think it would be weirder if I was exactly the same as I was five years ago,” Bastian answered, trying to turn off the memories that came rushing to the surface at that statement.  He swallowed drily, not acknowledging the censorious look drilling into him.  “I didn’t notice, ya know?  I thought—well, it felt like I was frozen in time for…a while there.  Before you met me.”

 

Finn sat, waiting, but the other man just trailed off, dipping the brush into the soft yellow mixture and returning to feathering short strokes, blending the two colors until the edges were smears.  “Are you happier now,” Finn pressed finally.

 

Bastian dropped the paintbrush into the murky water with a plop and stared at his work, a bruised silhouette, empty, mocking.  Without looking, he grabbed a tube of paint, unscrewed the cap, and squeezed a blob right onto the canvas.  Cadmium red, and Bastian smirked as he added another blob and smeared an upturned crescent.  Nodding satisfied at the red smiley face beaming back at him, knowing how much Jamie would have hated it, would have yelled at him for ‘ruining it’ and ‘never taking anything seriously,’ Bastian grinned and said, “For sure.  Not even a question, babe,” and squirted cadmium red dead center on Finn’s face.

 

*****

 

“What the fuck happened to you?”

 

“I dunno what to tell ya, man,” Bastian said with a lazy, almost blissed out smile on his yellow and white-paint face, colors smeared from his hair line to his jaw.  “War is hell.”

 

Iolo snorted, bowing and shaking his head in mild exasperation.  “Just once I want to come here, you open the door, and I don’t have to ask you that.”

 

“Hate to burst your bubble,” Bastian began, stepping back to open the door wider for Iolo to enter, “but that’s probably not going to happen.”

 

Iolo hummed in acknowledgement but not acceptance as he looked around the loft, noting the sound of the shower behind the curtain divider, the mop and bucket propped against the back of the mustard yellow couch, the evidence of a recent cleaning on the slippery wood floors, and a conspicuous canvas leaning next to the TV.  “Art project went wrong?”

 

“Art project went _great_ ,” Bastian corrected with a grin, bouncing over to the kitchen sink as Iolo moved to inspect the canvas.  “Hey, babe, Lo’s here,” he called towards the shower as he twisted on the kitchen faucet. 

 

“Hi, Lo,” Finn chimed over the running water, which switched off a second later as Iolo grunted back,

 

“Up, down.”

 

There was a slight pause and then Bastian cackled, winking over his shoulder as the water and paint on his face dripped down his nose and chin like a melting wax figure.  “That’s cute.  You should use it more.”

 

Iolo shrugged, attention focused on the red smile in front of him.  “It gets old fast.”

 

“Bas has a weak spot for dad jokes,” Finn supplied, emerging from behind the heavy black curtain in a pair of Bastian’s basketball shorts and a black Rolling Stones t-shirt.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Iolo allowed, still staring at the painting as Finn approached to stand beside him.  Iolo glanced over, and Finn gave a sympathetic wince.  “Did he do this,” he asked in an undertone while Bastian scrubbed at the stubborn acrylic.

 

Finn nodded.  “I think Jamie’s been haunting him a bit.”

 

“That fucking wedding,” Iolo muttered harshly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his dark wash jeans.

 

“I should’ve been here,” Finn mumbled, strangely contrite, and Iolo squinted over, confused.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Nothing,” Finn replied quickly, shaking his head as he crossed his arms.  “Is Poe on his way?”

 

“Yeah, he texted, like, ten minutes ago,” Bastian answered, turning off the sink with his eyes closed, groping blindly for the towel he knew he had put somewhere.  The touch of rough cotton against his face surprised him, and Bastian let out a slight gasp, eyes shooting open.  Iolo shushed him quickly and continued to pat Bastian’s face dry, pausing under the younger man’s right eye to scrub at a spot of yellow oxide.  Bastian gaped, and Iolo smiled back with fondness, placing his free hand at the nap of Bastian’s head to support as he moved the towel down to Bastian’s chin.

 

“Whoa,” Finn breathed, and Iolo and Bastian turned, blinking at him.  “Sorry, sorry, just pretend I’m not here.”

 

“I was trying to,” Iolo retorted, but Bastian laughed and leaned in to peck Iolo’s lips, a quick mix of peppermint and soap, before pulling out of Iolo’s grasp with an apologetic smile.

 

“I gotta say, I didn’t realize losing my J. R. R. Tolkien virginity was this big of a deal,” Bastian mentioned lightly, leaning his hip against his kitchen counter, wiping away some residual water from his upper lip with the back of his hand.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen any of them,” Finn said very seriously.

 

“Or read them, for Christ’s sake,” Iolo added, tossing the hand towel behind the counter in the vague direction of the hamper.

 

Bastian shrugged lightly.  “Guess they never came my way.  It’s not like someone was like ‘hey, wanna read this’ and I was like ‘no, hell no, get your devil books away from me.’”

 

“And yet, I’d believe you if that had been how it went down,” Finn joked, and Bastian shot him a little wink in response.  “I’m still mad at Poe for starting _the Hobbit_ with you without me.”

 

“Sure, babe,” Bastian drawled, scratching at his ear and inspecting the flakes of blue paint under his nail.

 

“Nah, he is, and so I am,” Iolo countered, moving to the fridge. “Mind if I get a drink?”

 

“Go for it—are you two actually mad,” Bastian asked in one breath.  Finn and Iolo nodded seriously, and Bastian rolled his eyes.  “I wasn’t even paying attention except when Thorin was doing something cool.”

 

“That’s the only thing saving Poe,” Finn responded darkly as the doorbell rang and Iolo closed the refrigerator door, bottle of Fat Tire in his hand.

 

“You are so weird, babe,” Bastian stated with a shake of his head as he headed to the door.

 

“Thorin,” Finn whispered to Iolo, cocking an eyebrow.

 

“I’m not concerned,” Iolo mumbled back, fishing one of Bastian’s seven bottle openers from the utensil drawer.  “He’ll see Bard and switch his crush, like everyone else.”

 

“You don’t look anything like Bard,” Finn pointed out while Bastian let Poe into the loft with a quick, one-armed hug.

 

“Have you ever seen a picture of Jamie,” Iolo asked quietly.  Finn shook his head and Iolo went on, “Let’s just say Bas doesn’t have a type.”

 

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Poe interjected, walking over and placing the large white take-out bag on the counter next to Iolo.  “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t start without me.”

 

“Would’ve served you right, Dameron,” Iolo said flatly.  Poe made an unamused face and Bastian tossed his hands up in a show of vexation, which was ignored.

 

“Yeah, don’t thank me for getting you food or anything,” Poe said drily.  “I’m eating all your spring rolls now.”

 

“Try it and lose an appendage,” Iolo replied with a smirk. 

 

Finn whistled lowly, starting to take plates and bowls from the cabinet.  “Remind me not to mess with Iolo and his food.”

 

“Please, make yourselves at home,” Bastian drawled sarcastically as Poe began to unpack tall, round containers of pho and the small Styrofoam boxes of accruements, Finn opening the two bags of spring rolls and emptying them onto a plate, and Iolo retrieving two more beers from the fridge.

 

Iolo looked around at the scene before chuckling.  “How did you make friends with so many type-A guys?”

 

“I blame it on the fact that I’m a push-over,” Bastian informed him, and Iolo grimaced at that.  Abandoning the action in the kitchen, he crossed over to Bastian is a few long strides and pulled the younger man into a loose embrace.

 

“Joking,” Iolo asked softly against the shell of Bastian’s ear.

 

“Mostly,” Bastian answered, lips brushing Iolo’s exposed skin when his neck met his shoulder.  Iolo nodded while mentally relishing the honesty.

 

“Come on,” Iolo urged, leaning back and jerking his head towards the U of couches.  “Let’s get the best seats before those two hog everything.”

 

“Heard that,” Finn hollered as Bastian threaded his fingers through Iolo’s and tugged him towards the mustard couch.

 

“Cue it up,” Poe added, not offended, as he passed over Bastian’s lemongrass chicken to Finn, who carefully transferred the food from the take-out box to a plate while Iolo flopped back on the center sofa and tugged Bastian down on top of him with a grin.

 

Five minutes into the movie it was clear to Iolo that the only person watching the movie was Bastian, who was offering live-action commentary between bites of rice and chicken (“Straight up, who would even trust Gandalf?  Like, he just shows up and starts bossing Bilbo around…there’s way more dwarves in this than I remember…okay, that egg trick is kinda cool…”).  Iolo couldn’t look away from Bastian’s intense face, cast in the warm glow from his widescreen television.  Finn was lying on his stomach on the floor, slurping his pho that was nearly overflowing from the bowl after he had added the bean sprouts and pork, and Poe sat next to his legs, looking on with warm amusement at Finn’s strategy.

 

“Yes!  There he is,” Bastian exclaimed, dropping his fork in order to clap as Thorin appeared on the screen.  “He’ll sort this out, like a badass.”

 

Iolo laughed softly, reaching for another spring roll, when loud pounding emanated from Bastian’s apartment door.

 

“Oh my God,” Poe groaned, pausing the movie.  “Is this going to happen every fucking time now?”

 

“I thought Rey was out of town,” Bastian said to Finn, who twisted around, pressing all his weight on his right elbow and forearm.

 

“She is,” Finn confirmed with a frown.  “Excepting anyone else?”

 

“Santa, but I’ve just about given up hope on him,” Bastian replied in mock seriousness as the knock continued.  “Who is it,” Bastian shouted, and Iolo hissed, rubbing his palm against his ear.

 

“You gotta make a decision,” called back a deep, slightly accented male voice.  “Leave tonight or live and die this way.”

 

Bastian had launched himself over the back of the couch and was hurtling to the door before the voice had finished speaking.  “What the hell,” Bastian laughed merrily, wrenching the door open with a bright smile.  Instantly, a man was into the loft, one arm around the Bastian’s waist and dipping Bastian backwards with a laugh.

 

“Run away with me, and don’t look back,” the stranger implored, and Bastian tossed his head back as he laughed, pushing at the man’s shoulders.

 

“Let me up, D, I’m gonna pass out.”

 

The man hummed.  “Yeah, I do have that effect,” he agreed, swinging Bastian back up to his feet and looking over to the three men staring at him.  “And who are they?”

 

Bastian slapped the back of his hand against the man’s chest.  “Jerk.  Guys, this is my cousin, Diego.  D, these are my friends: Iolo, Poe, and Finn.  What the hell are you doing here?”

 

“I have a meeting in Toronto,” Diego explained, unconcerned at the bewildered expressions trained on him as he dropped his small brown leather on the ground and walked around Bastian towards the couches.  “I need to change flights anyway, and I thought I should make sure you’re still breathing.”

 

“Di- _ego_ ,” Bastian whined, following behind on his cousin’s heels.  “I’m not a baby anymore—you don’t need to check up on me.”

 

“Aw,” Diego cooed, turning abruptly and griping Bastian’s chin between his thumb and fist.  “Aren’t you adorable tonight,” he asked teasingly, shaking Bastian’s head before giving him a quick slap to the cheek before turning around and heading for the television.

 

“Ow,” Bastian pointed out, rubbing his cheek with a small frown.

 

“You’ll survive,” Diego retorted mercilessly, glancing over his shoulder at Iolo, Poe, and Finn, all on their feet and watching him.  “Now, which one of you is fucking my cousin?”

 

“Fuck off,” Bastian snapped, hands on his hips and outright glaring at his cousin, who didn’t notice as he picked up the flat screen and put it on the floor, opening the traveler’s chest, and inspecting the contents.  “I can’t believe you—you always do this.  I can’t even look at a guy without you making a huge fucking deal and--,”

 

“You done,” Diego interrupted, straightening with a bottle of tequila in his hand, reading the label.

 

“You hide your liquor,” Poe asked, trying to lighten the mood, but he was ignored.

 

“No, I’m not _done_ , so you can--,”

 

“Pour me some of this,” Diego cut in, tossing the bottle underhand to Bastian, who caught it reluctantly against his chest.  Bastian open his mouth, but Diego held up his finger as he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.  He smirked as he tapped on the screen and then read, “ _And when you’re there, ask him about Iolo.  Micah says good things_.”  

 

Bastian blinked.  “Oh.”

 

“Took the righteous wind out of your sails now,” Diego joked.

 

Bastian scowled before pointing at Iolo with his thumb and saying, “Have at it.”

 

“Hey,” Iolo interjected, slightly offended while Diego turned his sharp smirk on him.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bastian mumbled to Iolo as he passed. “D doesn’t actually care.  His sister is making him.”

 

“And my mama,” Diego added with a rueful shrug, “who absolutely loves Bastian more than me.”

 

“Auntie Martha is the best,” Bastian gloated smugly, walking into the kitchen for a glass.  Finn elbowed Poe and jerked his head after his friend; Poe nodded in agreement and the they left Iolo and Diego evaluating each other.

 

“He’s your _cousin_ ,” Finn asked flabbergasted as Bastian banged the short tequila bottle on the counter and banged open the cabinet door.  

 

“Yep, one of ten,” Bastian replied mildly, taking out a glass tumbler.

 

Finn stared over as Diego draped himself into the navy-blue couch, his teal button-up tightening across his chest as he spread his arms over the back of the sofa, crossing his ankles, and flicking a loose strand of wavy black hair that had escaped his gel out of his eyes.  “But he’s pretty.”

 

“Oof,” Bastian huffed.  “Tell me how you really feel, babe.”

 

“Hold on,” Poe said, holding up his hand, “I think I have dibs on being insulted by that.”

 

“What—no!  No, I didn’t mean--,”

 

“We know exactly what you mean, babe, and I’m gonna drown my sorrows now in Pretty Diego’s tequila.”

 

“Listen, I only have ten minutes before I need to get back to the airport,” Diego told Iolo, who looked at him blandly from his seat to Diego’s right.  “Give me the run-down fast as you can.”

 

“I don’t like to be interrogated,” Iolo stated flatly.  “And I don’t like people who piss Bastian off.”

 

“He’s used to it,” Diego shrugged.  “But that’s a good start.  Go on.”

 

“I don’t think I will,” Iolo said petulantly, cocking an eyebrow challengingly.

 

“Yeah,” Diego asked, raising his chin a little to answer the contest.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Here,” Bastian said, suddenly appearing between Iolo and his cousin, holding out the short glass to Diego, who took it, looked at the generous two fingers of alcohol, and downed it.

 

“Thanks, Squirtle,” Diego rasped out, putting the now-empty glass on the crate and looking up at Bastian’s wince.  “I brought you a present.”

 

“No,” Bastian said instantly, eyes widening in fear.

 

Diego winked.  “Don’t lie, you loved it.”

 

“I’ve never been more mortified in my life,” Bastian snapped, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

 

“What, I was supposed to let my baby cousin come out without a present?”

 

“Yes, D, that’s exactly what you were supposed to do,” Bastian cried, throwing his arms up while Poe drifted over and squeezed Iolo’s shoulder in silent support.

 

“Nonsense, I am a modern man.”

 

“You are _not_ going to distract me with Mr. Roboto lyrics,” Bastian scowled.

 

“Damn, that usually works,” Diego confided to Iolo, and Iolo got the impression he’d passed a test he didn’t know he was taking.  “And I don’t know what was ‘mortifying’ about it,” he directed to Bastian.  “I’ve never laughed harder in my life.”

 

“I still can’t look Tio in the face,” Bastian groaned, hiding behind his hands.

 

“Strawberry-flavored lube,” Diego explained with a definite twinkle in his dark eyes to the others, Finn joining Poe on the other side of Iolo.  “As a joke, you know.  My papa had no idea—poor man is oblivious to everything that doesn’t have four legs and a saddle.”

 

“He used to be a jockey,” Bastian provided from behind his palms.

 

“Anyway, he sees it, asks what it is,” Diego went on, setting the scene with his hands.  “And this moron,” he nodded at Bastian, “tells him it’s candy.  Candy!”

 

“What else could I do,” Bastian implored, sending a manic look in Iolo’s direction, who was torn between laughing and wishing the story was over to spare the younger man.

 

“So Papa goes ahead and tries it,” Diego continued wickedly.  “And he goes,” Diego’s face dropped into a disgusted grimace, voice rumbling and heavy, “ ‘this is very bad candy.’”

 

“Bas, I’m so sorry,” Finn breathed sympathetically as Poe tucked his face to the side, shoulders shaking.

 

“It was fantastic,” Diego recalled fondly.  “But anyway, I got you something you actually wanted this time.”

 

“I doubt it,” Bastian mumbled but held out his hands to his cousin expectantly.

 

Diego looked singularly unimpressed.  “What, do you think I smuggled it through security in my anal cavity?  In the bag, idiot.”

 

“Watch it,” Iolo warned lowly, even though Bastian didn’t seem disconcerted by the comment as he traipsed over to the leather bag left by the door.

 

“If you want someone to baby him, wait til Val visits,” Diego rolled his eyes.  “She’ll have his check book balanced, dinner cooked, and laundry started before he has time to say ‘hi.’”

 

“Like I have a check book,” Bastian mumbled, sitting cross-legged beside the carry-on and unzipping it quickly.  “What am I looking—oh, no way!”

 

“It’s my Sorry I Was an Asshole present,” Diego smiled indulgently as Bastian lifted a narrow, brightly colored box from the bag.  “And I promise not to throw this one away, Squirtle.”

 

“Is that a Sky Dancer,” Finn asked with a puzzled frown as Bastian rotated the box in his hands.

 

“It’s a long story,” Bastian supplied, scanning the diagram on one side of the box.

 

“One I’m not staying around for,” Diego said, getting to his feet and stretching his arms behind his back.  “I’ll see you next month, yeah?”

 

“Maybe,” Bastian mumbled, tucking his toy under his arm to zip the bag closed again.

 

“Wrong answer,” Diego frowned sternly, marching over at pressing the toe of his boot against his cousin’s chest.  “I will see you next month, yeah?”

 

“Just—we’ve got a good thing going, just seeing each other once a year,” Bastian said, looking up with guileless eyes.

 

“He’s turning sixty,” Diego stated, bending down to pick up his luggage and be face-to-face with Bastian.  “You can’t just ignore that.”

 

“You know he and I don’t do well in crowds,” Bastian told his cousin softly, glancing over to the couches.

 

“Bring that guy along,” Diego whispered back, cracking a genuine smile.  “He’s got some bite in him.  It’s nice.”

 

“Yeah, I think so too,” Bastian admitted with a warm smile.  “I guess if everyone’s there…?”

 

“We’ll keep him so distracted you could get a hand job on the buffet and he wouldn’t notice,” Diego assured.

 

“And with that image I’m never having sex again,” Bastian joked, and Diego burst out laughing, catching his breath as he hauled his younger cousin to his feet.

 

“Then I’ve done my job.  Be good; I’ll tell everyone you’re alive and eating,” Diego said, hugging Bastian so quickly Bastian didn’t have the chance to raise his arms before Diego pulled back, slapping him on the back.  “Make sure you tell that Micah I was here.”

 

“Will do.  Thanks for the fly-by,” Bastian smiled, walking his cousin to the door.  “Have fun in Canada.”

 

“Not that kind of trip,” Diego sighed regretfully, opening the loft door with a jerk.  “Enjoy the movie; don’t get too attached to Thorin.”

 

“Wait— _what_ ,” Bastian blurted out, but the door was already closed.  Turning his wide eyes to Iolo he asked, “Don’t tell me he dies.”

 

“Okay, so we’re ignoring what just happened, huh,” Iolo asked blandly.

 

Bastian looked from the door to Iolo, blinking.  “I mean, what do ya want to know?  My cousins are weird, and Diego is the weirdest—unless you count Ronnie, who’s really a half-cousin and is totally fine so long as--,”

 

“Right, we’re ignoring it,” Iolo stated firmly with a nod, turning back around.  “Someone put the TV back on the liquor chest.”

 

“What’s the deal with the liquor chest,” Poe asked no one in particular as Finn scurried around to replace the television.

 

Bastian threw himself down next to Iolo, nestling into his side with a wheedling smile until Iolo relented and held up his arm for Bastian to slide in.  “Thank you,” he whispered as Poe settled down on the green sofa to their left.

 

“Just because we’re ignoring it now doesn’t mean you’re not explaining it to me later,” Iolo murmured back before planting a quick kiss to Bastian’s upturned forehead.

 

“I will.  I want to.  Just not--,”

 

“I know, Squirtle, I know,” Iolo teased softly, grunting slightly as Bastian pinched him under the ribs.

 

“And I thought Finn had the wackiest cousin,” Poe mentioned lightly, picking up the discarded remote with his toes.  “Right, Finn?”

 

“Huh,” Finn hummed distracted, staring at his cellphone screen.

 

“I said you’ve got competition for the weirdest cousin,” Poe repeated a bit louder, pointedly ignoring how Bastian melted into Iolo’s chest, his legs bent across Iolo’s lap, and Iolo’s responding easing sigh.

 

Finn frowned down at the text on his phone.

 

_Walker, Finnegan.  DCA to SJJ.  Friday._

 

“No,” Finn mumbled, turning off his phone and dropping it into the shorts’ pocket.  “No, I think I still win that one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a bit of calm before the storm, right?
> 
> Thank you thank you to everyone who left a comment or kudos on the last chapter! You are all absolutely fantastic readers! The delay in updates for this one was mostly unintentional (too many ideas, not enough time to type) but thank you for sticking with this story! :)
> 
> Next up: Finn

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy the story!
> 
> I aim for weekly updates, and all kudos and comments are relished and enjoyed, and I try to reply to every comment :)


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